


Mint to be

by Luckyfsh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Chefs, Eponine is done with everyone's shit, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11530848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luckyfsh/pseuds/Luckyfsh
Summary: Eponine had been so excited for this project. Normally she was stuck making chefs who were assholes look approachable, look kind and driven, not just egotistical. She had to film teachers and parents trying to find ways to humanize these chefs and their edgy new ways to cook eggs, and ‘new exciting takes on old classics;, chefs who think anyone without stars isn’t worth their time. Finally, she finds someone who isn’t like that, someone who really sees food as a form of art, same as Eponine, who wants to make food, not win awards, and of fucking course, he is too busy having an ‘emotional revelation’ to actually talk to her about it.





	Mint to be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GodlingCaptainChristina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodlingCaptainChristina/gifts).



  
“I give him what he needs.” Grantaire stares into the middle ground after making the proclamation, oblivious to the stares from the entire camera crew.  
Eponine shouldn’t have made this a morning shot. She hasn’t had enough coffee. They stand between rows of vegetables in the near dark, and she doesn’t have the energy to deal with all… whatever this is.  
  
“Cut. Awesome; crew you can take 15; Grantaire, can I talk to you? Alone.” Without waiting for an answer she marches to the other side of the garden. The sun is just barely peeking out from behind the shed, the reason she had chosen a morning shoot. It makes everything look fresh, simple. The restaurant Le Musain was making waves with its down to earth food, something clean after the recent ‘fusion’ trend sweeping Paris.  
  
The food is simple-- each dish is rooted in a French custom, province, or ideology. The restaurant is located in the small village where the chef grew up in, served on the first floor of the apartment building the chef had lived in his entire life. They source everything locally. So locally in fact, that the farm that provides all the flora is about half a mile away from the restaurant and the chef spends much of his time with the gardener, Grantaire, to ensure the best possible product for the restaurant- an interesting quirk of Le Musain.  
  
Which is why Eponine, the best director of documentaries since Lucy Walker, is going to have to explain to Grantaire that she is making a documentary, not a love story and could he please, just tell her about the cabbages?  
  
Definitely not enough coffee.  
  
Grantaire follows her to the corner, carefully picking his way around the rhubarb. “What’s up? I know the camera doesn’t like me, but that's just my face, I’d change it if I could,” Grantaire jokes. He’s not anything to look at, so she supposes he has to make it up somewhere.  
  
“No, no, believe me, I've worked with worse, you’ve got nothing on sea urchins.” She takes a deep breath. She could do this. Quick and painless, like ripping of a band aid. “I actually was going to ask… I understand that you and Enjolras have a very… intimate relationship- but part of the appeal of this series is the lack of campy ‘sob stories’.” She looks up to see if he was going to say anything. He was clearly still following, and didn’t look like he was going to punch her for daring to call his life campy, “-and while I’m glad you and Enjolras have beaten the odds as a queer couple, I need you to focus on the foo-  
  
“Wait, what?” Grantaire stares at her with wide eyes, darting to look at the camera crew milling in the center of the garden before returning to stare at her. "Enjolras and I aren’t… that. He would never- I mean- I’m just a gardener-” he cuts off, looking more and more panicked with each second. Eponine stares; is she not supposed to know? Every time they get on camera to talk about each other you can practically hear the chorus of angels singing, no editing needed. Grantaire takes a huge breath and slowly lets it out. Then another. Finally he begins to speak again. “ I’m sorry, I’ve just been keeping this… crush, I guess, hidden for a really long time. It’s your job to find a story though, so I suppose you can see right through that.” He looks up to meet her eye. “ Just- I can keep it all about the vegetables. Can you not tell him, please?”  
  
“Of course.” She gives him a nod and his smile comes back, just a little. He walks back over to the dill where they are filming and she takes a second for herself. Grantaire isn’t anything to look at, very… plain. So plain that if she weren’t looking at him, it was kinda hard to remember what he looked like. Brown hair, brown eyes, fairly short. Nothing like the statuesque chef. Maybe it is just a crush. But the one time she had met the chef he had been adamant that the gardener had screen time, so there was clearly some type of relationship there. It isn’t her job to discover the personal lives of her subjects, only what inspires the food. She walks back over to the mint. “Alright, from the top. What is your role in the restaurant?”  
\--  
“People don’t get it. Food isn’t supposed to be something that requires thousands of euros of equipment, or ingredients flown in from around the world to be good. Food, at its base, is just something to provide subsistence, not a sign of how much money you have, or how refined you are!”  
  
The chef gestures wildly, eyes bright, hair falling out of the loose bun in was brushed into. In the back, a kitchen bustled. He calms down and meets Eponine's eyes directly. “That's what we do here. We celebrate the baseness, the simple. We celebrate plain. Our dishes are inspired by what we grew up eating, or ideas that sustain us- not some misguided idea of ‘post contemporary gastronomy” His handsome face curls in disgust on the last words.  
  
“Cut,” Eponine yells. That was so good- that was so good! The passion, the sentiment, even the appearance of Enjolras vibrating out of his typical chef outfit showed how he wants to challenge the stereotype of a high-end chef. Then he blew it. “That was wonderful Enjolras, but I would appreciate if you didn’t throw other restaurants and chefs under the bus. Leave Lames et masques alone.” she leans back in her chair, closer to her intern, Marius, and asks “ can we edit out that last bit.”  
  
Marius looks back at the viewfinder and rewinds it. The pause is short after ‘sustain us’, but not unbearable. It won’t look too bad if they have a quick cut to the menu or another worker in the kitchen. She calls out “that's fine- but avoid doing that again. Can you talk a bit about how you source your food and what ‘food from home means to you?”  
  
Enjolras sits up, the previous passion coming back- but less manic, softer. “Well, I grew up on the island, on a farm, growing my own vegetables, feeding my own chickens. To me, food from home really means food that I’ve planted and watered and picked. That's actually one of the tenants of the restaurant. All of our flora comes from a single farm, about a kilometer from here. I spend almost as much time there as here in the kitchen. The farmer, Grantaire has lived on the island for as long as I have. The food that we grow there is what ‘food from home’ means to me. We want to show people that good food can come from your back yard.” He smiles. “Without Grantaire this restaurant would nothing.”  
  
“Cut!” This is fucking ridiculous. “Enjolras, can I talk to you out back!” She storms out the back door, already counting to 10 in her head. She is a food photographer. She didn’t sign up to work on human interest pieces or sappy romantic documentaries about beating the odds. All she had signed up to do, was film the food.  
  
“Alright listen. I don’t know what sort of bullshit crossed lovers scenario is happening with you and your farmer, but I. Don’t. Care. The viewers don’t care. And perhaps most importantly the producers, who pay me, really don’t care. So stop with the sappiness, stop with the ‘he’s what inspires me’. For the purposes of this film, all you are is people who work together. Okay?” she glares at Enjolras who… Who looks almost as confused as Grantaire did when she gave him the same talk yesterday.  
  
“But we are only coworkers?” His brow furrows, highlighting his eyelashes and strong bone structure. Eponine almosts wants to pity him just because he’s pretty. But even if he is pretty, he's a fucking idiot, apparently. “He is almost everything I want to show the world about, he loves this island, and his family, and food, and he doesn’t try to be anything he’s not. And I really respect him for that, and I would never want to date him, even though he’s got such nice hair, and he’s so gentle with the garden-” And God Eponine can see where this is going, with each word his eyes get softer and he starts to smile, until something registers and-- “Oh my god I’m in love with my gardener.”  
  
“Yes Enjolras. And as wonderful as the miracle of love is, there is no room for it in my movie. So politely shut the fuck up about him on camera.” She is in no mood to have a sappy conversation about feelings. All she wants to do is film the fucking food. “Alright. Back to the kitchen.”  
\--  
Eponine had been so excited for this project. Normally she was stuck making chefs who were assholes look approachable, look kind and driven, not just egotistical. She had to film teachers and parents trying to find way to humanize these chefs and their edgy new ways to cook eggs, and ‘new exciting takes on old classics;, chefs who think anyone without stars isn’t worth their time. Finally she finds someone who isn’t like that, someone who really sees food as a form of art, same as Eponine, who wants to make food, not win awards, and of fucking course he is too busy having an ‘emotional revelation’ to actually talk to her about it.  
  
They are back in the garden. It is raining, providing some wonderful shots, with the mist, and lightning in the background, but now they were trying to have some shots of Enjolras picking food out, maybe have him talk about how he designs his dishes, and he and his star crossed gardener are cradling beets in their arms like babies. Do they not understand that there’s a schedule? They have plenty of unusable footage of them starting at each other, or waxing lyrical about the other. At this point she may as well ship the footage to Cosette and tell her to take the story over.  
  
She surveys the scene in front of her. Grantaire and Enjolras are standing close in the cold, looking at the beets, Grantaire pulls out a knife and cuts some of the green off, holding it out to Enjolras. Enjolras takes it, and without breaking eye contact tastes it. Then, blushes and pulls away, walking over to the leeks, Grantaire drags behind looking dejected. Forget Cosette and her human interest pieces- she could give it to Joly, he could have a field day analyzing the behavior of these two, the way he worked on other wild animals. She could hear his voice in her head. The limited sight of this species the lovers means that they cannot detect the longing gaze of the other, leading them to believe that their love is not reciprocated.  
  
But this isn’t a human interest piece or an animal documentary- it is a documentary about food. And they are behind schedule. “ALL RIGHT, CAN WE START FILMING? ENJOLRAS, KNEEL DOWN, I WANT TO SEE YOU CLOSE TO THE FOOD, OR WAIT GRANTAIRE YOU LEAN DOWN, ENJOLRAS STAND BEHIND HIM, MARIUS COME HERE, I NEED THE SHED OUT OF SIGHT-”  
  
\--  
“I’m losing my mind!”  
“Hun you haven’t seen anything yet.” Courfeyrac is sprawled in the chair in the restaurant office, having clearly given up trying to order meat for the next week. Eponine is technically off at the moment but needed someone to vent to. Courfeyrac is the perfect person, he had been friends with both Enjolras and Grantaire since practically birth, and had to see the romantic tension between the two.  
  
“What do you mean I haven’t seen anything yet? They were holding beets like babies.” Eponine leans against the cabinets, holding some of the house ice cream in her hand. Sage and burnt honey mmm. One of her favorite things about working on food shoots is eating the food, and she might even be able to put up with the idiocy that is Enjolras and his gardener if it means she has access to this desert. At her statement, Courfeyrac let out a slightly desperate laugh.  
  
“Oh no. Bad, is when you have to spend all of high school listening to them pine as the other tries to be straight. Bad is when Enjolras leaves to go to culinary school in Paris and Grantaire almost moves with him, despite getting unbearably anxious in big cities. Bad is when Enjolras moves back and they move in together while thinking the other one is still straight. Worse is Enjolras planning to open a restaurant of his own purely so he can spend more time in the garden with Grantaire. Worse is Grantaire becoming a full-time farmer so he can support Enjolras’ new restaurant despite making better money as a teacher.” Courfeyrac stares at her. “The absolute worst is Enjolras getting very drunk and confessing to me that almost every dish on this fucking menu is in some way or another inspired by Grantaire and telling me in detail what each item means.” He nods at the ice cream “according to Enjolras, that ice cream is the color of Grantaire’s freckles.”  
  
“Well, way to ruin it for me.” She sets the ice cream down. Courfeyrac doesn’t seem discouraged by Enjolras and Grantaire’s obliviousness, it is almost like he was no longer trying to do anything about it. She had only known Courfeyrac for about a week, and he didn’t seem like someone to give up, much less on something involving his friends. “Do you think they’ll ever figure it out?”  
  
Courfeyrac took a second to consider the question. He is a quirk of Le Musain. As the manager and Head Waiter, he is almost given more power than the sous chef, Combeferre, something rare in a world where your worth is almost always determined by you cooking prowess. Courfeyrac claims he would burn water if he ever tried to cook for himself. Enjolras had started the restaurant with Courfeyrac and wanted him to bring his set of skills, networking, socializing, empathy, to an often cutthroat restaurant world. He is often cited as one of the reasons Le Musain has gone so far- they have someone with a different perspective whispering in the ear of the head chef.  
  
“I mean...They’ve gotten farther along as they grow older. They’ve established that they both like men, they’ve both realized they specifically love each other-thanks to you” He nods at her, having almost fallen to the floor laughing when she told him the stories.” And I guess that at this point they realize the other is the most important person in their life- so either they end up together romantically, or they live out life together like they are now, pinning, but ultimately happy. They make each other happy.”  
  
He finishes and Eponine considers what he has said. They definitely make each other happy, she hadn’t seen Grantaire smile in their first shoot, but with Enjolras around he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. And Enjolras seems to find everything he wanted to show the world embodied in Grantaire. It is just the question of how much happier they would be if they were together.  
  
Well, that and-  
  
“They may be happy but I’m not. They’re driving me insane! How have you been dealing with it for 25 years?”  
  
Courfeyrac laughs. He does it a lot, a sunbeam solidified into a human form. “Patience. Patience and whiskey.”  
  
“Well then thank god we have the second because I sure as hell don’t have the first.” She eyes him for a second, it was a tiny town, but if they was anyone who could find a party here, she bets he could do it. “So is there anywhere in this town to get a drink that won’t cost me more than my car?”  
  
“The entire town had been dealing with those two for 25 years, and not all of us have a lot of patience. There's a great bar about a block down. I'll invite the staff and we can bitch about them.”  
  
“Perfect.” Sometimes Eponine loves the people she meets at her job.  
\--  
Alright, she was a director. If they aren't going to figure it out on their own then she will direct them.  
\--  
Cosette,  
Hello dear, What do you use to create an atmosphere for your more romantic movies? I have some emotionally inept chefs who need a little push so I can refocus them on the food.  
Thanks, can’t wait to see you after this shoot.  
Ep  
  
  
Dear Grantaire,  
This is Eponine, I need you to come to the docks tomorrow at 6 a.m.- We need one more shot of you, Ccourfeyrac and Enjolras talking about the village. Sorry for late notice.  
Eponine.  
  
  
Dear Enjolras,  
Hello again, thank you so much for the food last night- unfortunately it has inspired me and I want to do a shoot at the docks at6 a.m.. tomorrow. See you then.  
We’re so close!  
Eponine  
  
  
Marius  
We need bread, coffee, jam, a SMALL blanket, and a camera-something subtle. Hopefully, this will all be over soon and I can finally teach you how to properly do a food documentary.  
Sent from my iPhone  
Boss Ep  
\--  
Darkness. The sound of the beach. Waves, seagulls, the occasional distant sound of a car. Finally the sound of footsteps. They come closer, then stop. A few minutes later the second set of footsteps is heard.  
  
“Hey R, why are you here” The voice is soft and confused. It is a far cry from the intensity of the same voice that is heard in the official documentary. The speaker sounds like they have yet to wake up.  
  
“Ep told me that we had to do another shoot today? About the village? You, me, and Courf?” R’s voice is deeper and sounds more alert, a body used to waking up before the sun.  
  
“No? She told me that it was just a shoot with me?”  
  
“Hmm. Maybe she changed her mind?”  
  
All that is heard is the sound of the waves for a few seconds., Finally, the first voice speaks again. “Well she left us this, so maybe she left something at her hotel and needed to run and grab it. I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”  
  
Suddenly a bit of light is seen, Then more, though the screen still shows no clear shapes. The waves are suddenly heard much clearer. When the men begin talking again it is also louder and clearer. “Well, Eponine was clearly just here. This coffee is still hot. Spread out the blanket and we can eat and wait for her.”  
  
“What do you think of the show?” The first voice asks.  
  
“Well it’s your show, feel like I should be asking you that.” A beat of silence, then “ I mean I’m really proud of you. I feel like finally, you’ll get the recognition you deserve. I mean I’ve known how amazing you are- how good your food is- since we were baking cookies in your grandmother's kitchen. And now the entire world will know.” The words are happy, but the tone is melancholy. It is clear that the speaker isn’t as happy as he wants to sound.  
  
“That was nice, but what is your real opinion Grantaire. I know you will never be that kind.”  
  
“Your confidence in me is astounding.” For a few seconds, the sound of the sea is overwhelming. “I’m afraid. This will make you busy. People from all over the world will want to come here, see you. You will need to spend more time in the kitchen. And one one hand that is so amazing for you, getting everything you have ever wanted, getting to put this place on the map. But on the other hand, I really want to take this journey with you. And I can’t. No one wants to meet the gardener. You’ll not be able to spend time in the garden anymore. Hell, sometimes I worry that you’ll get too big and need to expand, that I will be left completely behind. I know that won’t happen, not really but I still think about it.” A gull caws in the distance. “What I said is true. I am proud of you. I’m afraid of what it will mean for us. For me.”  
  
“Well, that's stupid.” It comes forcefully, the words almost on top of the other man's. “R, this restaurant may not be in your name, but it’s yours as much as it is mine or Courfeyrac, or Jehans. You provide for us. And I don’t think this will change much, and even if it does, I don’t want that success if it means I have to stop spending time in the garden. I love the kitchen, but for me, the food is really made in the garden.” He laughs an almost pained sound. “You know, having the camera crew here has been illuminating. And I-I have-It’s shown me things about this restaurant, about myself that I hadn’t seen before.”  
  
The screen continued to lighten, unit a dock and a small beach filled with seagulls can be seen. It is from a fixed angle, the footage is fuzzy, a small camera, easy to overlook. The two men are seated next to each other on a small blanket facing the sea. They are speaking to each other but they do not look at the other. In the background, there is a set of tired store fronts, faded paint and old cars. The sun has barely risen and the only movement is the breathing of the two men. It is not a place that should have a Michelin star winning restaurant.  
  
“Yeah, Eponine is good at that. Finding things in you that you didn’t know you had. Has she had the ‘I’m here to film food discussion’ with you?” The man who spoke, Grantaire, takes a sip of coffee looking out across the bay. The other man looks at him in surprise, before adding,  
  
“Yes! She looked like she wanted to strangle me when- well...” He snaps his mouth shut, a blush beginning on the tips of his ears. But the two have known each other for too long. Grantaire turns to look at him, the question clear before he opens his mouth.  
  
“When what?” He looks hesitant like he’s not sure he wants to hear what the answer may be. A moment of silence passes. “Enjolras?” He turns to face the other man fully. His brow is set. He wants to hear the answer.  
  
Enjolras looks caught, unable turn away. “Nothing important, I was just rambling while using precious film space. Why did she talk to you about it?” The distraction is transparent but effective. Grantaire turns away, seemingly afraid before muttering something under his breath. The waves are too loud for the camera to catch but it is clear that Enjolras heard it.  
  
“No, tell me.” Enjolras turns to look at Grantaire fully, twisting so the camera can only see his profile.  
  
“It’s stupid. It was stupid and sentimental. And you can’t ask me to tell you without telling your story.” Grantaire ends, almost angrily, turning away from Enjolras to look out at the gulls. The silence was strained for a moment before Enjolras breaks in-  
  
“I'll say what she was yelling at me about if you tell me.” Enjolras hesitates for a moment, almost as if he wants to take the words back. Grantaire turns to look at him, see if he is serious, no small amount of terror displayed on their faces.  
  
“Fine. But you need to go first.” He shifts so that not he is facing Enjolras, and all the camera can see is his profile. Enjolras does the same. He takes a deep breath before replying.  
  
“Okay.” He sits in silence, eyes closed, lips forming around unspoken words. Grantaire is staring at him, eyes flickering from his mouth to his eyes, looking for something to give away what the other man is thinking. There is a tense minute, the two sitting close, but silent. Grantaire breaks.  
  
“So…” Grantaire starts, and Enjolras startles, the blush getting worse before shaking his head and explaining himself.  
  
“Um. I'm ordering the words in my head.” Enjolras takes a deep breath before beginning. “well. I was talking about you. About the farm. And how important it was to me. And well. She thought I was going- or saying -” He founders, and Grantaire looks concerned. It is clear that this isn’t normal for the stoic chef- stumbling over words and unable to find his train of thought. Grantaire reaches out to grab his hand, provide some sort of support, and Enjolras finds himself again. “She may have brought it to my attention that I really like you. In a romantic sense.”  
  
They sit, suspended, still holding hands. Almost in slow motion, Grantaire comprehends the words and his face crumbles, and he pulls his hand away, shaking his head as if he believes the words are phantoms, that they cannot be true. Enjolras seems to hold tighter for a moment before letting go, words already falling from his lips  
  
“Listen it's no big deal. I can… ignore it. We can ignore don't need to do anything- I just- really like you. I’ve kind of been in love with you for my entire life. But we don’t need to-”  
  
“Wait!” Grantaire interrupts, throwing his hands up as if he could physically stop the words from coming. Enjolras stops. Grantaire takes a deep breath. “Um, well, she did the same for me, like, the exact same. I was talking about you, and I was being so obvious that I loved you, and she told me she wasn’t making a rom com, but I couldn’t talk about you without sounding in love, and she couldn’t get a cut and, don’t ignore it. And please be serious. I don’t want you to ignore it and I want you to be serious.”  
  
Breathlessly Enjolras responds. “I won’t. I am.”  
  
For the space of a breath, the two men are silence, before the simultaneously lean towards each other. Slowly they meet, eyes closed as mouths move gently across one another.  
  
\--  
  
“ALL RIGHT, I’ve seen enough of this in real life I don’t need to watch it again!” Eponine interrupts drawing laughs from the small crowd. The official release party for the season had happened months ago, but their episode was airing the next day, so Grantaire and Enjolras had used this as an opportunity to bring everyone back together- and Eponine had used it as an opportunity to show the couple the unofficial documentary. “God, this should be the most romantic scene I’ve ever filmed, but the scene of you two cradling radishes made it into the actual film-”  
  
“Oh, we’re not that bad!” Grantaire cries out, only to be rebuffed but an almost everyone in the room.  
  
“Grantaire you and Enjolras have literally been pinning since primary school. I’ve had to listen to Enjolras describe every single haircut you’ve ever gotten. And that was before he figured out he was in love with you. That was when he thought he was straight.”  
  
“Okay so maybe we’re a little bad.” Enjolras chimes in, bringing Grantaire's hand up to kiss the back. Grantaire promptly blushes up to his hairline and the entire party groans. Eponine reaches over and steals Grantaire's glass while he isn't looking. He owns her, she figures, seeing as she put up him all filming and got him together with the love of his life. Or whatever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a single, very homoerotic line in an episode of Chefs Table. Inspiration is weird.  
> Honey and sage ice cream is A++ if you ever get the chance to try it.
> 
> Thank you to my prompter, and the organizers of the Exchange! You did an amazing job!
> 
> As per usual, Sustain your writer with kudos and comments


End file.
